The Caskett Down Below
by Tv Centric Universe
Summary: "Under that white sheet was not her partner. He was gone. His shell, the vessel that used to carry him, his joy, his pride, his loving heart- was now empty." Based on 'Countdown'. Warning: character death. Complete/under construction.
1. Chapter 1

Beckett sat quietly, back against the wall of the industrial freezer and cold seeping in from the floor below. Somewhere in the corner, the motor hummed, lulling her into a false sense of relaxation. She shivered against the frigid metal, her leather jacket and hoodie now void of any warmth.

The icy air meandered around the room, carrying with it the fog and snowflakes which would cause her demise. Her fingers were frail and her exposed fists unfeeling. Shallow breathing caused thin clouds of condensation to swirl about the air. She wondered idly why she couldn't see her partner's.

Struggling against her fate seemed useless now. She knew how this was going to end- and it was going to hurt.

The process had begun hours ago. First, her toes and fingertips. Then, her feet and hands. It had started with the sharp pain, tiny pinpricks reminding her that she still had hope. Next, had come the burn, causing her flesh to redden and eventually itch. Last, but not least was the numbness. It turned her skin a pale blue, and then all feeling had ceased.

All over her body, she was going numb. Inch by inch, it was seeping into her, and she was being consumed. She pulled her shins closer to herself in an attempt to preserve the little heat she had. It was futile, she knew, but she had to try.

Emotionally, Beckett was all but numb. Her heart was in turmoil- her once black and white view of Castle was now unrecognizable, random hues on some unknown canvas. Her heart's battle with itself was slowly killing her, draining her of the already dwindling sensations that she once felt.

Love and hate were using her heart as a battle arena and forcing her to watch. Every few minutes, a new winner would take the podium and promptly be defeated. She was forced to sit back and watch as the crowd began to cheer; only mocking her suffering. Somewhere, her courage was in hiding.

By this point, everything hurt, escalating from a dull ache to an eternal flame. Frigid air burnt her lungs, but her mind refused to give up. She almost wished it would.

The dramatic temperature kept her still, and her rigid muscles stung despite lack of use. Sitting caused sharp pains to shoot up her spine, but even then, she remained motionless.

Castle probably felt the same way, but she couldn't be sure. They had long given up talking, the freezing conditions requiring too much effort. Pushing back against his still frame, she felt nothing. He was probably conserving energy, the detective reasoned.

When she was younger and put on that badge for the first time, she had been full of so much pride. She remembered the day vividly. He father stood over her shoulder, tears in his eyes as he looked upon her in her uniform. For the first time in years, she had seen genuine hope. This was not how she wanted this to end.

She always thought she would die of a bullet wound or, maybe Derrick Storm was getting to her, torture. A bullet was quick, extremely painful, but quick. Death in disguise, her dad had called it.

Torture, well even that had to end eventually. Even since the influence of Castle, she had never considered freezing to death. It was a crude way to die- agonizing and slow.

Resisting a painful yawn, she felt her eyes begin to close. Staying conscious was a challenge. Every breath made her wince in pain. It hurt to live, but she something kept her hanging on. A voice in the back at her screamed at her that help was coming, that she wasn't alone. She hoped to God it was right.

Flashbacks filled her slowing mind- laughter, tears, and smiles. Every criminal and grieving family danced across her thoughts, like a reader scanning a treasured novel. Images seemed to come alive- visions of her past and dreams of her future.

The people they would find justice for, her mother, her father, Castle.

The darkness which had been slowly sneaking up on her and was now, finally, closing in. In the realm of the unconscious she tried to stay alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Castle was burning. Instead of blissful numbness, frozen fire seeped in from the icy floor. He had long lost the warmth of the outside, and he wished on every star that help would arrive soon. His cold fingers grasped tightly at the brittle fabric Beckett's leather jacket, holding her as close as his body would allow.

Snowflakes frosted his eyelashes and swirled around their huddled forms.

With every breath he felt the chilled air enter his lungs, followed promptly by a pained whimper. It hurt to move, and it hurt to remain still. Frostbite bit at his hands and the back of his legs from where they lay against the floor. His blue eyes were mere slits as they watched with glazed appreciation. At least, he reminded himself, he was alive.

With nothing left to do, his mind began to dwell on what had brought them here. It was his fault really. He was the one who dragged them into the warehouse and pushed them into the freezer. Now they were fighting for their lives, and it was all because of him.

In the perfect world, he would be on the deck of the infamous Hampton beach house, with Beckett at his side. In a perfect world, he wouldn't be freezing to death.

Before she they'd met, Kate had been fine- short hair and full smile. She'd been confident and hidden safely behind her walls. She may have been lonely, but she was safe. From the moment she'd placed those handcuffs on his wrists, he had destroyed that. He tore down her walls and let himself in, regardless of what she'd wanted.

When she finally did accept him, he'd run off with his tart of an ex-wife, forgetting to look behind him and see her heart break. His stupid vulnerability had made her shoot Dick Coonan. He was the cause of all her suffering and, if help didn't come soon, her demise.

Castle's thoughts became cloudy as hypothermia sunk in. They slurred into pointless rants that even his writers mind couldn't decipher. Every breath was slow, and each heartbeat a little fainter. He could feel life slipping through his fingers, and his tired mind almost sighed in relief.

At this point, he welcomed death with open arms, but something held him back. A small voice shouted from the back of his mind, begging him to stay awake. His aching head nodded faintly, planting his chin further into his chest.

He blinked slowly, as if the weight of the world rested upon his eyelids. Images appeared, like a slideshow, across his vision and his frozen lips quirked up in a small smile. Footage of Alexis twirling and smiling flitted across his mind. The sun was shining and he could almost feel the phantom warmth.

His hand twitched as the next vision, clenching around the familiar shape of the coffee cup. The cheap cardboard burnt his hand but, unlike the frozen flame, it was a welcome heat. The first time, he remembered the grateful look which grazed her delicate features.

With renewed vigor, he drew a deep breath, ignoring the sharp pins which pierced his lungs. He had to survive, the voice screamed. All the victims they would find justice for, all those families they would free- for their own families, for their friends, for the precinct.

He knew he was a goner- every feeling he had, emotional or otherwise, was gone. His limbs were frozen at the joints, and keeping his eyes open was sapping all his energy. Beckett's still frame was tucked against his and he wondered idly if she felt the same way.

Her still chest was a painful sight and his heart was wracked with guilt. Every slow beat was a reminder that he was still alive, and one more step closer to death. Her feisty spirit had set her apart, but now it was gone. In its place was a mere ghost- a vessel of Beckett, but nothing like Kate herself.

It looked like her, and it had previously sounded like her, but now she was an empty shell, pain painted on her once beautiful features.

Full of regret, he closed his eyes and watched as darkness slowly enveloped him.


	3. Chapter 3

She saw a light, a bright and welcoming light.

She tried to open her eyes, to embrace it, but like the rest of her they were frozen shut. Heavy footsteps approached and voices, loud and slurred, echoed around the freezer. Everything was muffled as her tried brain tried to keep up, quickly giving up.

The people drew nearer and the warm burst of air trailed them- relief flooded her subconscious. Around her, energy thrummed and swirled. New life flooded the cold room; bring with it hope and a renewed will to survive.

Heavy boots made a strong grinding sound, as it came into contact with slick ice and snow. Her lips twitched with veiled joy, as somebody knelt in front of her. She could feel their warm breath against her cheek as they spoke to her in hushed tones, yelling over their shoulder to the remainder of their team.

Warm fingers remove her collar, prying it away from her pale blue neck, and skimming for a pulse. The material was rigid with frozen condensation, and it scratched against her skin, which was slowly regaining feeling.

She tried to move, anything to tell them, whoever they were, that she was okay. She strained for her ears to start working and heard a muffled yell announcing that they had found a pulse.

Two sets of hands grabbed her roughly under the arms, and her joints strained with the change in position. More footsteps flooded in behind her, taking up the abandon space beside the writer. With an urgent pace, she was carried out of the freezer.

A wall of warm air greeted her, and she welcomed it gratefully. The shouts increased, and soon, a chair was pushed underneath her. The cold denim of her jeans stuck uncomfortably to the metal chair, and she shivered as she collapsed. Blankets were draped over her shuddering form, including her shoulders and legs.

Delicate fingers pulled open her eyelids, revealing the green orbs. The direct beam of a flashlight blinded her, and she blinked reflexively, although it was considerably difficult. She recoiled as quickly as she could, but to any on-lookers, it was slow motion.

Questions assaulted her from all angles, people's voices varying from soft to harsh, male to female. It was a jumble of colours and words, and her brain worked as effectively as it could. It was hard to figure out which voice belonged to whom, and to be honest, she didn't really care.

Topics ranged from personal, health-related questions to how long she'd been stuck there. Her tongue felt heavy and her answers were slurred at best. It was a miracle they could understand her at all. Eventually satisfied, the questioning stopped and the detective sighed in relief.

The calming voice of Montgomery was a welcome change, and the sight of his confident stride gave her comfort. Now that her struggle was over, her mind was free to breech more important topics- Castle. The fate of the writer was still unknown to her, and she hoped that the reply would be a happy one.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. As soon as the topic left her mouth, her Captain's face fell. He lowered his heavy head, and shook it sadly, his eyes unseeing. When he lifted it, she could see his dark eyes, shimmering with unshed tears.

She swallowed mournfully, and her eyes glided over to Ryan and Esposito, who were speaking to a young paramedic. She tried to concentrate on the conversation, but was only able to focus on the paramedics standing beside them.

They carried a stretcher covered in a white sheet, a sure sign of death. She desperately hoped it was Jamal under there. Hoped so desperately that it was his body going to the morgue and not Castles, her Castles. The uniformed men stopped in front of the conversing trio and lifted back the sheet.

It wasn't Jamal's frozen face that had been obscured by the sheet- it had been Richards. His once joyful smile was now a line of blue. Her Castle, the man she loved but never told, was gone. The annoying shadow, her loyal partner, the amazing father and the love of her life was now dead.

That was the tipping point, and an onslaught of tears promptly followed. Inside, she was crumbling, like a building after its foundation was removed. Like a clay pot hitting the ground, she was shattering.

Under that white sheet was not her partner- he was gone, but his shell. The vessel that once carried his joy, his pride, his loving heart, was now empty.


	4. Chapter 4

Castle woke up surrounded by warmth.

He could almost feel the breeze as it glided over him. Heat enveloped his boneless form, comfortable like sun on a summer's day. He seemed to absorb the bright rays, and sighed with content.

A panic laced voice called his name quietly and he blinked in confusion, stirring from his blissful state. Gingerly, he put out his hand, expecting the padded seat of a stretcher. Instead, he felt nothing.

Suddenly, someone's hand grabbed his. Slim digits entangled with his own and he wondered idly who it could be. Curiosity getting the better of him, he opened his eyes and saw her.

She was gorgeous. Gone was the pale undertone and her skin glowed with renewed energy. Her smile echoed his, although it was far more radiant. Her green eyes were elated, and unlike the glazed look from the freezer, they seemed to take in everything around them.

She pulled him up effortlessly and he almost floated up to meet her, surprised by her sudden eagerness. Looking around, he took in the blue sky and the waves which lapped at the shore. Grass grew sparsely between the grains of sand and he slowly recognized the beach house.

Suddenly, everything changed.

Only the sun remained as, with a deep rumbling, the sky turned dusty and white. Snow drifted into his outstretched hands and his fingers curled around the descending cold. The warm sand and grass hardened and grew frigid, cold fog rolling off the slick surface.

The once beautiful Beckett had transformed to nothing, and her radiant smile disappeared with her. Swallowing thickly, he wrapped his arms his shivering torso and winced at the familiar action.

He hated being alone- nobody to talk to, nobody to support. He wanted Beckett, to tell her what she meant to him, as a partner and as a friend. He wanted to go home and tell his daughter he loved her. He wanted to enter the precinct with a coffee and bear claw for Kate, his Kate. He wanted to live.

A harsh, metallic clang echoed in the frozen room and the author spun around quickly, breath quick and heart racing. A steel table stood in the centre of the room, similar to those of the interrogation room, and on its slick surface sat a crystal ball. 'Kind of like the Wizard of Oz' he though curiously.

Through the thick glass, the image of Kate bled through. The vision was foggy around the edges and the screen smoky. The once strong detective sat, arms holding her knees to her chest. Tear stains adorned her bright cheeks, streaming from green eyes, swollen and red. A bottle was gripped loosely in her right hand and a glass of amber liquid sat abandon by her left. Pain etched into her beautiful features and her makeup smudged carelessly down her face.

Somewhere, his heart was breaking.

Without warning, the encased smoke swirled and the contents revealed an image of his daughter. Her pale figure was seated at his desk in the 'Bat Cave'. Her blue eyes looked expectantly at the door, fingers tapping out the beat of an old pop song. He recognized it quickly as the song from his youth, the one he had sung to her when she was young. Sometimes when she was nervous he would blast it from the living room and, although she rolled her eyes, he knew she enjoyed it.

The ball dimmed and the images disappeared with them, leaving Castle alone in the room of snow and ice.

He missed them. All of them, even those he barely knew. He missed the beat cop he saw drinking coffee out of the precinct espresso machine. He missed the smell of coffee, the life source for all detectives and the enthusiastic writer, and the scent of Beckett's cherry shampoo.

He wasn't angry or confused, just lost. Usually he would laugh things off, or jump into some wild theory involving aliens or the government. Instead, his brain seemed disoriented. Just like in the freezer, his fingers burnt and his toes were numb.

He swallowed deeply and closed his eyes, taking comfort in the sudden dark. Dark was good, dark was warm. Dark was the moment just before he woke up, or the shelter of night. Dark was the sky, silent and starless in the city smog. Dark was shielding.

Opening his eyes, he was welcomed by the sight of blue. It seemed almost florescent and he sighed dejectedly. This was his reality.


	5. Chapter 5

She wasn't expected to come to work the next day, and she was grateful for it.

Instead, she sat alone on her couch drinking a bottle of scotch Castle had gifted her on one of his many unplanned visits. The alcohol flooded her system, but it could not wash away the sharp burn. Instead, her thoughts were buzzing and her chest was sore with the renewed effort to keep breathing.

Swallowing a mouthful of the amber liquid, she sighed and fought the desperate urge to cry, there were no more tears to shed. He had been a good man, and the world was mourning.

He made her job exciting, changing even paperwork from a chore to a pleasure. His wide smile seemed to brighten her day and coax her sheltered heart to love again. The walls she built were nothing to him, and a challenge he had gladly accepted.

Now he was gone, and she felt hollow, alone in the world with nobody to rely on. The place in her heart reserved for him was empty, and part of her went with it, leaving the flimsy structure to collapse. The thinning walls shook and crumbled with the exposed foundations, reducing the once intricate walls into rubble.

She was getting a healthy buzz from the scotch, and her mind continued to reel. She truly did love him and three years of denying it had only made it stronger. In the beginning, she was shy to admit, she was attracted to his playboy image, Castle not Richard.

But now she realized she had fallen in love with him, as a father, as a partner and a best friend. She even loved his family- Martha, with her larger than life attitude, and Alexis with enough maturity for them all.

People always say that sober thoughts were drunken words and right now, they couldn't be more right. A sudden inspiration hit and she struggled to rise from the couch, hands sinking into the soft cushions as she tried to balance.

The detective stood up and stumbled to her door, nearly tripping on the way there. After pulling on a leather jacket and running her fingers quickly through her dark hair, she rushed out of the door with a loud slam. Her hands shook and her keys tumbled to the floor.

She sighed, frustrated, and bent down, thin finger searching for the metal keys. With a small rush of satisfaction, her fingertips met with the silver ring and she promptly picked them up. Then instead of waiting for the elevator, which was slowly inching its way up, her inspired legs made their quick decent.

Walking out into the warm New York air, she raised her shaking hand to hail a cab. After a few minutes one finally pulled up and, crawling into the cab, she hurriedly gave the address.

Arriving at Josh's house she began to sober up, but the remaining alcohol spurred her footsteps. Her knuckles rapped on the thick door with a slight echo and she waited impatiently for her call to be answered.

He opened it and smiled, a wide smile that almost seemed to mock her recent loss. His eyes shone happily and carefree. They left no doubt in her mind that he hadn't heard about her partner.

He could probably smell the alcohol on her, but didn't comment. Instead he flattened himself against the side of the door and she walked in. Being familiar with the floor plan, she made her way to the leather chair in the corner, sinking into its depths and wishing to never return. He walked in and after she stood up defensively.

They were going to fight, this much she could tell.

"Why did you stay? You said you were off to Haiti." she yelled angrily.

Hesitantly he replied, "It's none of your business."

"The hell it is, if we're going to work out then you need to be honest with me."

"Honest with you? Look who's talking!" he scoffed.

"What are you talking about?" She asked, confused.

"You're the one who spends all your time with him."

"Who, Castle?" He nodded.

"He's my partner, I have to work with him."

"Oh, do you now. Didn't you tell me you could cut the contract whenever you wanted to?" he almost spat at her.

"Maybe I never wanted to."

"And why would it be?" you could virtually feel his anger.

"Because I'm in love with him." She admitted loudly.

With that, she turned sharply around, leaving him mouth agape. Tears filled her eyes, blinding her vision, and inspiring her tired frame to continue forward, alone and devastated.

She walked without purpose and her feet carried her down a blurred series of streets. Her footsteps echoed off the empty sidewalks and the parked cars which littered the neighbourhood. A couple walked by the opposite side of the avenue and she released a muffled sob, the reminder penetrating her dulling emotions.

Finally, she was able to admit how she felt, and the man was gone.

Now the life he'd lived was just another box of evidence, another digit in the polls, another lifeless corpse taking up a morgue drawer. Maybe that's all they ever were in the end.

Just two days ago he was a person, a complete and whole-hearted person. A person with emotions, with dreams, with a family and friends. A man with a heart of gold. Now he was a nothing. A ghost of Richard Castle.

The light where she stood turned green and she staggered forward, walking slanted through the crosswalk.

Distracted, she refused to see. It felt like she was in that freezer, that god-forsaken freezer. Outside she looked alive, drunk but alive. But inside she was gone, dead, empty. She had no more feeling, but the numbness in her heart. She had nobody. Castle was dead. Josh was over. Everything in her life was gone.

Her victims, well some other detective would give them justice. Her father, he'd be sad but he would survive. Her mother, well maybe some things are better off unanswered.

Continuing her journey, she heard a loud screech and felt pain explode on her side. She hit the pavement and everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

**Private Pain

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Castle saw it all. He saw the fight, although it was more like a war to him. It couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes. But the raw truth of hearing those five words made it feel like forever. He smiled slightly after hearing it. "_Because I'm in love with him". _But stopped after he saw her leave. She looked so broken, so out of character. She looked empty, better than before mind you, but still so hollow.

He saw her stumble, too distracted for her mind to work properly. He saw her walk into the middle of that intersection, the horrid crossing of roads. He saw the car approach and the image dissolve into dust. He tried to scream, but even in hell, he was freezing, freezing emotionally, freezing physically. It didn't matter anymore.

He tried to save her; mentally he tried to be with her. Tried to make her know he was there, watching over her and trying to protect her. He tried to make her see he loved her too, that she didn't have to leave her friend to know that. But he couldn't reach her, she no longer existed. The Beckett he knew, the strong and rule abiding Beckett was gone, replaced by a weak and uncoordinated person. A mere shadow of what used to be.

If you were to tell him last week, that this was hell, he would of though you insane. But today, at this point in time he would of called you a genius. Hell wasn't a place of fire and ash armed with a pitchfork, it was agony. Your own fears coming true, your dreams mutated into an unrecognizable monster. This was his own private hell, his mind uncovered. Your greatest fears, your worst enemies combined into a solid sheet of agony, that wrapped around you and wouldn't let go. It was watching everything go downhill and not being able to stop it. Maybe to some it was a devil and fire, but to him, hell was watching Beckett in the last moments of her life and being forced to watch, useless to stop it and stuck in a freezer.

But despite being in this place, the torture chamber created by him for him, he still had hope. Hope Alexis would grow up okay, hope Kate would survive, hope for a better future.

And suddenly, he didn't feel so bad, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, the weight once crushing his heart. He still felt horrible for causing so much pain and guilt for leaving them. But he knew everything would work out in the end. He always said "Life sucks and then you die, so might as well go out with a bang" and this would be no exception. Yes hell is painful, it's agonizing and it makes you want to scream, but even that eventually stops. Hell was a horrible situation, but even out of fire comes the phoenix, rising out of ashes.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Death draws near **

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She felt pain, excruciating and blinding pain. She felt her head hit the pavement and everything go black. Despite her temporary blindness, Beckett could still feel, nothing good but something. It was a sign of life, a hope of survival. She heard tires screech and sirens blaring. She felt vibrations of peoples heavy footsteps and a child's meager voice screaming for help. She felt blood, sticky and gross, clinging to her skin.

She could feel herself being lifted onto a stretcher and overly-calm paramedics yelling out commands. She felt a vehicle lurch into drive and pressure on her lower abdomen. She sensed the ambulance stop and her semi-conciouse being lifted out into the chilly air. She could hear the annoying doors slide open and the smell of sanitizer and old people whoosh out.

She was dying and she knew it. Just like the freezer she felt life seeping out of her,not in the form of ice but in the form of a gooey red substance. She was devastated, not because of dying, everybody died, but dying with regrets. The evil ruminants of dreams long forgotten.

People always say that you can sense death, plan it's every move. And right now she knew it was coming, not disguised as a bullet, but a vehicle, a simple automobile. Truth be told as welcoming as death seemed it was still a challenge for her to go. Where would she go next? Would she go to heaven, would she disappear? Would she float around in the universe, never finding solid ground or would she be with him? She needed to be with him.

Lost in her thoughts she finally realized that she was in surgery. Her eyes were still shut and unable to open them she remained blind, only half-aware of what was happening. She heard the beeping of her heart monitor, sure and steady.

Then she heard the frequency speed up. She told herself not to panic, to just calm down and breathe, it was just a fault of technology, blasted technology. The beeping continued to increase in frequency until all you could here was a single one-tone note, replaying over and over again.

She was gone; her heart had given up on her. Her mind, only half-awake was still with her, trying to force her to consciousness. She could hear merciless and too loud voices. Commands directed to surgeons blasted through her ears. She felt charges jolt her chest painfully as the dosage quickly increased.

It was funny, blind with all other senses. It was an odd feeling to say the least, an out of body experience. She always wondered if her death would be slow, torturous, or over in a heartbeat. And right now she couldn't really tell. She was scientifically dead, no pulse no heartbeat. In the eyes of the doctors she was gone, another victim, another plus one on the death poles. But emotionally she couldn't be more alive, more awake, more free. She was whole and for the first time in a while she was complete. As strong and resilient as ever.

She could feel love, feel hate, feel regret. She could finally understand how she felt. She understood now that she didn't just love him, she needed him. Like people need caffeine. You could live without it, everyone could. But it makes your life so much more flavorful, so much more free. Like in life there were espressos, there were lattes and there was the coffee that tasted like a monkey peed in battery acid. Castle was the one who bought them that espresso machine, the one that changed her usually horrible coffee to that amazing Starbucks brew. The one who transformed her disappointing life into an exciting and wonderful place to be. She was alive, free and flying high.

Then she felt a white sheet drape over her. That was the point Kate Beckett knew she was dead. Emotionally alive, but unable to become fully awake. She was in limbo, neither here nor there. A drifter, a traveler of the unknown. She didn't want to go, she wanted to stay with everyone, those who loved her, those who wanted her and those who needed her. But she couldn't, even if she tried she could never be with them. She knew that, but knowing and believing were two different things. Then she though about Castle, he would be there waiting for her. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he needed her as much as she needed him. Like the world needed caffeine, they needed each other.

Finally deciding that it was either him or nothing she let death take her to him.

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**I apologize for taking a long time to update. I blame writers block.**

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	8. Chapter 8

**Death from the Sidelines

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Castle saw her die in that hospital, that horrible place of hand sanitizer and sickness. He saw her in her last fleeting moments. He heard the heart monitor quicken, gaining speed as his Beckett lost life. He saw her die, the love of his life dying. Not in peace but agony, at the hands of that stupid surgeon. He wasn't just witnessing death, he was witnessing failure, failure to protect the only person he had ever truly loved.

He was forced to watch in pain, pure and agonizing. Like watching yourself slowly falling and not being able to stop, except now he was watching Beckett die and with her part of himself. He couldn't watch this, yet he had to. He wanted to scream at the world for making him view this painful sight and he wanted to thank them for being kept in the loop. He was being forced to watch, not love, not peace, not some voluntary act but an act of hatred, of war and yet he couldn't turn away. I mean was it really that easy?

Just watch the person you love die and walk away, totally unharmed. Towards other people he might of said _I'm sorry for your loss_, but now he understood why that was so inaccurate. He couldn't blame those who use that line on the victims family, they never saw someone die as excruciatingly as the scene unfolding in front of him.

More than pain, it was the guilt. There was just too much. Everything he did and everything he missed out on. All those times she needed him and he had disappeared. Guilt for never telling her how he felt. He had never hidden the fact he was attracted to her, everyone at the precinct knew that. He was guilty because he had never told her that she meant more to him than just a one night stand, a fling of sorts. He never got to tell her that he loved her with all his heart and that he would risk his life for her as long as she lived.

They had been getting close to that moment. Beckett mentioning her seemingly perfect relationship with Josh was on the rocks and saying she wanted a stable relationship with someone who understood her. He had gotten so close to telling her how he really felt, so close. And now she would never know. She would never know how much he was willing to sacrifice for her, how he would happily risk his life if it meant her survival.

It was sad, no pathetic. He loved this woman since the moment they were forced to work together and she didn't even know. I mean, he tried to show her, helping her with her mother's case and being there when no one else would. But, did she really know. Whenever the word love came up he would deny it, or change the subject as quickly as possible. And despite being a detective she was very dense about something's. I mean, would a man really help you through your mothers case and base a book about you if he didn't at least care about you.

Now he was getting angry, at himself and at Beckett. Himself because he should never have denied it. Everyone at the precinct knew, they even had a bet going for it, so why didn't he. And you think she would notice, how right after she got with Demming he leaves with his ex-wife. Castle knew that was his fault but he couldn't help but be a little bit angry at Beckett. He knew it wasn't her fault, he had a bad history with woman and she needed space. He couldn't get angry at her, being a detective had made her a strong, independent woman. She would never admit she needed someone. He couldn't blame her for anything, it was his fault. He tried to show her he cared and died trying to save her. It was sad, no depressing, because despite all they went through, dancing around their feeling for who knows how long and not even realizing it. It was more than depressing, it was cruel. Destroying a relationship that hasn't even started. I mean everyone saw it, Lanie, Ryan, Esposito, and anyone who ever saw them work together, even the criminals.

He felt tired, not physically but emotional. All this thinking had drained his energy and after struggling to stay awake for what felt like hours, he needed sleep. Maybe when he woke up this would all be a dream, a very realistic dream. A dream caused by too much caffeine, or an overdose of Chinese food from one of his late nights with Beckett. Maybe when he woke up he would call Beckett and tell her he loved her. Maybe she would hang up, but it was worth a shot.

Finally his body gave up, and sliding to he freezer door he fell into a dreamless sleep.

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	9. Chapter 9

**Past Relived**

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She woke up sore and confused.

But she felt warm, like he was on the beach of some foreign land. She looked over and saw Castle beside her, relaxed and looking alive. All worry disintegrated from his sleeping body. She looked around, acknowledging the green grass, golden sand and navy water. She racked her mind trying to remember where she had seen this place before. Then she remembered the pixilated photo on Castles i phone, the picture of Castles beach house in the Hamptons. The beach house she was invited to, the place she rejected to go. The paradise where when she finally decided to go but was replaced with his blonde Barbie of a publisher trophy wife. But she smiled, because now it was her and Castle not him and that annoying bloodsucker. She smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. She was happy here, actually and legitimately happy. But then it all disappeared and she was in the hospital where she died.

The last thing she remembered was being in that hospital for a brief moment, a place smelling of old people and hand sanitizer. Now she was outside, she could tell from the cool breeze blowing past her. But she heard nothing. No shuffled footsteps, no cars driving buy, no trucks honking their horns. She was confused to say the least, were the hell was she. She tried to open her eyes, but she could not, she didn't know why but they were frozen shut, not by cold but by some invisible force.

But she could still smell and she smelt blood, salty and very close by. From what she could tell, she was outside back to back against a building with a dead body. She had to help them whoever they were, if they were dead or almost there, she had to try. Crawling over toward the pool of red, she could feel the rough concrete and fine dirt beneath her hands. The smell was getting stronger and viler as she crept closer. Then she felt something wet and sticky cover her finger tips. She was there.

She tried to open her eyes, to fight the invisible hand making her blind. Maybe they took pity on her or maybe they just gave up, but she could finally see. But what she saw wasn't a victim; it was someone already dead, a horrible crime of nature.

It was Richard Castle. Her Castle, the Castle who froze to death and whose body was now in a morgue drawer. But here he was alive; he was the victim, the one leaking a red and gooey liquid. He looked peaceful although nothing about his wounds looked pleasant. She had to try to save him even if he wasn't really living. Maybe this was his hell, or maybe it was hers, it no longer mattered.

She hesitantly felt his neck for a pulse, anything to say he was alive. But she felt nothing, not a single sign his heart was working. Richard Castle was no longer a person, not since the freezer anyway. But now he had left her twice and that was two times too many. She had failed him, not just once but twice. Two times she could have saved him, two times she should have saved him, and two times she was too late to keep his heart beating.

This was hell, watching the man she loved die when she could have saved him. Watching as he died in an ally, the same ally as her mother, she realized. Two people she failed in the same place. How many failures can a person survive?

She just wanted to tell him, tell him that she loved him. Not the playboy image, the charade, and the mask he used to protect himself. But the real him, the one with amazing father skills. The one who made her day a fun and unpredictable place to be. The one who broke down her emotional barriers and let himself in. The Castle she knew was full of life, full of joy and now he was just a corpse, a body without life, a vessel without a soul.

She should have said something, anything, at least hinted at what she felt. He should have noticed. He was usually good at reading someone so how could he not notice. Telling someone about her mother's case in their first year working together was not something Beckett did very often. Heck, it took Esposito at least two years and he found it out through Lanie. He should have noticed, they knew everything about each other. She might not have known why he writes about murder, but she knew more about him than Gina probably did.

She wanted him to be alive, for some magical force to give him life. They could finally be together, true partners. It sounded cliche even to her, but right now she didn't care. Even though they weren't truly living they had both been declared scientifically dead and were now the new occupants of two metal morgue drawers. But even though she was not breathing, she felt alive. Finally free of worry, except for the man lying in front of her.

He was dead she knew that, she saw them take his body away. But he was here, or at least what was left of him. Then she saw it, in the middle was a puddle, slightly murky from the frequent rain and fine dirt, but a puddle. But in it she saw people, people she recognized, people she knew, people she loved.

She saw Lanie and Esposito hugging in the middle of her living room, an empty bottle of scotch on a small coffee table. She could see Lanie's face, eyes red from crying. And Esposito with the same look on his face. The puddle shimmered and transformed into an image of Ryan, sitting on a bar stool at the Old Haunt and nursing a shot of vodka. Shot glasses littered the bar in front of Ryan, who by closer inspection looked like he had been crying.

Then the image changed to her father. He was sitting on his old leather couch and holding a picture from years ago. A picture from when her mother was still alive, a picture of Johanna, Jim and Katharine Beckett all smiling, a Christmas tree with silver lights sitting in the background. She missed her family, even if her father was the only one still living. She had always missed her mother, no doubt about that, but today she missed her father. He needed her and she needed him. With her gone, would he go into depression, would he go back into alcohol, she didn't know. When her mother died, if it weren't for her and revenge, she would probably have gone into a depression. She couldn't imagine what he was going through his mind, first your wife than your own child.

Then the image changed to show Alexis. Alexis, she was his daughter, but Beckett considered her family. They were both loved Castle. They were both independent woman and they both needed their fathers. She respected Alexis, Castle was a good father but Alexis was like the perfect child. Beckett also knew that Alexis respected her. She made her mark on the world, helping families, arresting criminals, bringing forth justice. Even though they weren't related they were family. Even in the first year, Beckett and Castle acted like an old married couple and Beckett became her role model. She was a strong independent woman who knew what she wanted and was fighting for it. They were practically a family. But Alexis had just lost Castle, her loving and amazing father.

Looking back in the puddle she saw Alexis answer the door. Ryan walked in, tears staining his cheeks. He told her Beckett had just been killed and she broke down. Broke down because Beckett was supposed to take care of her when Castle couldn't do it. She was like her mother, or at least her future guardian, her hypothetical mother. She adored Kate, she was practically blood related, and now she would go to Martha, and god forbid when something would happen her gold digger of a mom. It was like losing both your parents at once to some unexplainable chain of events. Losing your father to ignorance and "mother" to alcohol.

Suddenly she looked up to the sound of coughing. She listened closer and heard breathing, faint but there. She heard a raspy voice call out to her, not in love, but fear, desperation and pain. She quickly spun around and saw him open his eyes.

Castle was back.

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**I apologize for taking a long time to update. I blame writers block.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Peace on Earth**

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He woke up, surprised and disoriented.

Then he saw Beckett, well at least thought he did. I mean she was dead right. He saw her die. He cringed just thinking about it. Maybe he was hallucinating or maybe he just saw her because of his sub-concise. He was a writer and he did kind of make things up for a living. Maybe this was just his writer brain kicking in.

Don't get me wrong, he wanted to see her, with all his heart. But he couldn't, not if he was still in hell. He deserved it, not by much but still more than her. I mean, she was perfect. Not always the nicest, but she sure as hell tried. She never gave up on her mother's murder or her father's alcoholism. She always tried to protect him, keeping him in the car might of seemed unfair but in the end it saved his life a few times. She was an amazing role model for Alexis and more like a mother than any of his deep fried Twinkie ex-wives. She was always there for his family, her family and all the victims. She didn't deserve this. As much as he wanted to see her, nobody deserved hell especially his Beckett.

Then she smiled, a genuine smile, not one of sadness or guilt but happiness and love. Now he believed she was really here, well her spirit at least. He was so happy she was with him, but in hell, that couldn't be right. But she had to be real. Last time he saw her she was dying in surgery. But he had to believe because even with his writer brain working overtime he couldn't of imagined her so full of life. The image of the hospital and freezer kept coming back. All that time they spent together, when she slept on his couch when Dunn blew up hers, when they were getting shot at, or when they were eating Chinese after work, he still couldn't figure her out. She was like a puzzle he just couldn't find the missing piece too, maybe it was him. Not in the beginning, but three years together must of built some kind of bond. He loved her and he crossed his fingers that she would realize she loved him too.

Then they had one of those telepathic conversations, those conversations were one look or the movement of one facial muscle can portray an entire thought, a conversation of best friends. The conversation wasn't much, only a look. A look of respect and love, a kind of honor. But that one feature portrayed so much, mainly gratitude but a little bit of love. It portrayed so many years of friendship so many years of reliance upon each other. All those years when they should have let their feelings be known. That was their relationship, a balance of trust and independence, the perfect relationship. That entire conversation lasted less than a minute but conveyed so many emotions; guilt, relief, joy, sadness.

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**Please Review. Chapter newly updated.  
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**Peace of Earth by Meatloaf. Check it out  
**


	11. Chapter 11

When she first saw him open his blue eyes, her heart was flooded with emotions: love, relief, gratitude and many more that she couldn't recognize. Happiness was by far the most prominent. It radiated from every pore of her being and her skin shone with renewed vigor.

It echoed in his features as well, creating a thick veil which crowded in around them, keeping them safe from the impending winds.

Not only was he alive, but they were together. Three years of partnership lay between them and she could feel the pressure release as it dispersed amongst the void. The sun shined down upon their blissful forms, and warmed their faces with the bright light.

This is what partnership felt like, she thought happily; not regret, not hatred. It was gratitude and love. Her initial delight began to fade, however, mixing with the confusion that clouded her lightened psyche.

Looking at the familiar graffiti-sprayed walls, her mind began to focus, skimming through the photographs of her past life, looking for a match. Without avail, she sighed, looking at her partner, eyes begging for a similar answer. The alley where her mother had died, she suddenly remembered.

Why were they here? She'd never thought to ask.

This was her hell, that much was obvious. The alley where her life had been rewritten, she thought bitterly. It felt so much different than the files. Instead of the photograph's smooth, glossy finish, the ground was covered in small, rough gravel. The scent of old paper, with curling edges, was far less vivid than the putrid stench of the ground. The colours were brighter, and the clarity frightened her.

Wasn't hell supposed to be dark? Was it even him?

He didn't deserve hell. Her partner would never harm anybody. He was always respectful to the victims, and treated everybody well, staying late at the precinct for company and paying for numerous cartons of Chinese food. He brought Kate coffee every morning and helped her to sort through her mother's murder.

He was a great role model for Alexis and always had time for her, even when he was in some other part of the world. He was never mean, even when he found out Meredith was cheating on him. He never slept with random woman just for the fun of it. He was a good person and he cared for people, especially her. He always made time for her, even when she didn't want him to.

Was this heaven? Probably not, she reasoned. If it was heaven, she would be with Castle at his beach house or the Old Haunt. Wherever they were, she sighed, all that mattered is that they were together.

She reached out for his hand, and he smiled at her, their fingers entwining, his no longer blue. His warm palm cradled hers, and she squeezed tightly as if he may disappear. The pressure was reassuring to her frazzled mind and her heart was finally able to rest.

His classic smile was bright and carefree, and she gladly beamed back.

His eyes shone with happiness, not anger nor depression. They weren't empty like in the freezer. She was here with the real Castle, the one full of life, the one who made her job fun, with a hundred conspiracy theories, the man who showed up every morning bearing her coffee and a bear claw.

His blue eyes met her hazel ones, and the look almost seemed to convey words. It contained so many years of friendship, years of adoration and an eternity of love. All the times they should have let their feelings be known. All the mistiming and brushes of hands.

That was their relationship, a combination of trust and independence, the perfect balance. Where would they go, nobody knew and nobody cared, as long as they were together.


	12. Chapter 12

The funeral took place a week later. The press were never informed, they didn't need to know.

An odd atmosphere descended over the group as everyone talked quietly and paid their respects. Montgomery and the crew were in full uniform, buttons gleaming and shoes darkly polished. Their stature was deflated and guilt weighed down their heavy hearts.

The rest of the small crowd were clad in black and their eyes watered with unshed tears. All twenty attendees looked sorrowfully across the room, eventually settling on the two coffins set up at the front of the room. The dark wood seemed to take up the entire room, although their simple design remained true to the owners.

Esposito, Ryan, Lanie, Montgomery, Alexis, Martha and a few close friends, his poker buddies included clustered into small groups. Beckett's father was there too, mourning the loss of the only family he had left. It was strange to see everyone so hollow, so different from the joyful people who visited the Old Haunt, spending hours with their favourite bar tender.

It was harder than most funerals, which says a lot. Beckett was an officer and it hit hard. But Castle had also died. Not only was he a single father but he wasn't even a cop. Beckett took on the risks when she put on the badge; she knew what she was getting into. But Castle, all he did was sign a contract; and no one thought he would actually need to use it.

For an hour everyone stayed in the room, some standing by themselves, and some counselling others. The loud voice of the presider followed a hollow knock, and the large wooden doors creaked open. A wind of fresh air entered the room, clearing the stiff air and bringing an end to the silent sobs.

The air was crisp and fall foliage lit up the cemetery with deep orange hues. Most eyes remained staring at the ground, the day too sad to appreciate the crisp fall day. The set-up itself was simple. An old wooden podium stood tall and stable against the cold grass, and the priest took his place quickly and quietly.

The bright red, white and blue of American flags stuck up proudly from green grass, a stark contrast the grey stones they guarded. Deep grooves read the names of heroes, now gone for their dedication and loyalty.

Even though Castle wasn't a cop he got buried in the area sectioned off for officers, right beside Beckett, where he belonged. The music started playing a sombre tune, as Beckett's coffin was carried in, supported by Esposito, Ryan, Montgomery, her father and two of the officers present at the funeral. Sunlight gleamed off the polished wood and the light seemed almost inappropriate.

Their shoes crunched over browning leaves as they returned for Castle, and another body soon took its place amongst hundreds.

With a final parting prayer, the priest finished his speech and the grieving crowd slowly left.

Montgomery and the team went to the Old Haunt. It was closed, but Castle had given the Captain a key. The old door creaked open and dust filtered in from the outside, illuminated by the streaming sunlight. It was completely empty and the team swallowed nervously at the silence.

Once they'd all sat down, the nerves returned. A cold atmosphere descended over the group as they all wondered what to say, what they could say. Eventually though, Ryan spoke up and drinks were poured half-heartedly.

The team sat, not really drinking, not really talking. Once and a while someone would try and start a conversation, reminiscing on a funny moment they experienced with their friends. When Castle thought he was cursed, or the prank with the espresso machine, and some depressing ones, Gina and Castle leaving arm and arm for the Hamptons, Castle watching Beckett and Demming, and Beckett and Josh. There were a lot more of those.

At least, they smiled sadly, they would be together.

A simple ceremony took place that day, a simple ceremony for simple people. Two people who strived to be the best they could be, and who died in search of justice. Two people who lived for family and country, but most of all, for eachother.


End file.
